


well, fuck indeed.

by clizzyhours



Series: holiday ficlets bby’s 💓 [3]
Category: Shadowhunters
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Clizzy - Freeform, F/F, Violence, first meets, journalist!clary fray, vigilante!isabelle lightwood, will be continued
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:21:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21947233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clizzyhours/pseuds/clizzyhours
Summary: Or the one where AU where Clary Fray is a determined journalist and Isabelle is monikered by the general public as Black Velvet, a vigilante who takes on creatures, abusive men, and the general array.
Relationships: Clary Fray/Isabelle Lightwood
Series: holiday ficlets bby’s 💓 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1580179
Comments: 6
Kudos: 22
Collections: shadowhunters sapphic library





	well, fuck indeed.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sapphfics](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphfics/gifts).



> warnings: violence, depicted imagery of gore and blood. 
> 
> for sapph, one of my dearest friends, a late birthday gift turned holiday gift 🥰
> 
> please enjoy and thank you!

Clary Fray is a goddamn reporter and a good one she is.

And yeah, maybe, she has been blacklisted a few - hundred of times and has pissed off old wealthy white men who are you know, conservative and racist and misogynistic as hell.

And has literally run straight into danger but you know it’s the principle of a scoop or an inquisitive lead she must tackle.

How can she not?

It’s in her blood.

She’s a Fairchild and Fairchild’s do not give up. They persist and strive forward and demand.

And well? She’s certainly going to figure out the identity of one Miss Velvet Night.

And so Clary ventures into the night. She has a plan.

Maybe.

The city is alive and pulsing with a loud cacophony of sirens, construction and traffic despite the darkness blanketing life. Bustling people scurry by as they wander to and fro into shops, clubs, and offices, a sea of life. 

On a top of a building, a young woman stands before lurching forward with ferocious speed, vaulting from the rooftop to the next rooftop. Her heeled boots land with a soft thud and she stalks forward, twisting her silver staff in her hand. 

She can hear the creature growling, pacing back and forth with angry steps. It blends into the night with a slick body and oozing texture akin to oil.

She brings her staff down - a bolt of electricity jolting out and leeching forward. The creatures releases a hideous growl and sideswipes, rushing furiously.

She strikes again akin to a shadowy flash. 

The monster bares its nonexistent teeth and moves lightning quick.

She doesn’t let herself get frustrated instead she absorbs all negative emotions and leaps.

And - so, a woman walks nearby and maybe one Miss Velvet Night doesn’t realize the loud commotion she is bringing and maybe she doesn’t realize the pretty reporter nearby -

On the other corner of the street, Clary walks with fierce determination.

She has been planning. Okay. Maybe not exactly planning.

But she swears she has something!

Like following (clumsily following) the vigilante. 

And no, do not ask her how she managed to do that, because well, illegal happenings.

And maybe she knows a guy or a person or two -

anyways.

Clary moves forward.

All while, Miss Velvet Night brings her staff down again and again, sending out electricity into the sliming ooze.

It lets out a furious shriek and she dances elegantly in the night like a practiced ballerina, jolting more electricity until she smells the stent of ozone and burning.

Smoked, she thinks delightedly.

And as she fights, Clary runs, her ears hearing a loud guttural shriek.

“Hello?” She calls out, weaving in and out of distracted people in what feels like an endless crowd.

The shriek doesn’t make a reappearance but unfettered, Clary moves agin.

Again, she brings her staff down as Clary runs and skids to an abrupt stops when she sees what looks like oil, an endless black smear, dripping and sticking. 

What? She thinks, her footsteps venturing and approaching closer.

She knows her dad wouldn’t approve - he’s a detective after all, but how can she not?

A story is a goddamn story.

And maybe she hopes the mysterious Velvet Night person will show up. Maybe.

Again, Velvet Night fights and slams her staff into the crevice of the creature, unaware of the leaking blood spilling from the rooftop and carelessly leaving remnants.

The creature finally releases a last guttural shriek before exhaling, body going limp and she lets out a relieved sight.

Unaware of green eyes glancing down at the bloody street to slowly looking at the rooftop, until Clary blurts out the identity the general public has granted her, until she whirls around and stares.

“Velvet Night! It’s you,” Clary murmurs with almost awe.

Fuck, Velvet Night thinks.


End file.
